ROSALIND: A Regency Romance (Bachelor Brides, Book 1)

by Jenny Hambly

  “Yes, George, I really think you must, and for your sake I hope your explanation is very, very, good.”

  It was not an easy interview, after several false starts he could think of no better way of engendering his mother’s sympathy than by telling her the truth.

  Lady Atherton had not been prepared for such an amazing tale, but had enough common sense not to interrupt with pointless questions. When he had finished she held her own counsel for several moments.

  “Well, my dear, that certainly was very enlightening,” she murmured. “And you were quite right to share it with me, how can I resent this poor child when she has already been instrumental in rescuing you from that, that cowardly, good-for-nothing scoundrel?”

  “Yes, Mother, but I am not at all sure you should mention it to her, it might embarrass her to think you know all.”

  The dowager countess gave her son a very straight look. “If and when I find myself in need of your advice on managing recalcitrant children, George, I will ask for it!”

  Lady Rosalind and Sir Philip were shown into a cheerful primrose morning room whilst Sedgewick took Mrs Prowett to Mrs Simmons, the housekeeper. She showed no signs of the annoyance she felt that Sedgewick should be the first to know of the new arrivals, but calmly sent a maid with suitable refreshments whilst she welcomed Mrs Prowett and arranged for bedchambers to be made ready.

  Lady Rosalind stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not quite comfortable at being left alone with Sir Philip.

  “Please sit down, Lady Rosalind,” he smiled. “I won’t eat you, you know.”

  Lady Rosalind blushed, feeling gauche and unsure of herself, but acceded to his request.

  “I would like to offer my belated thanks to you, for rescuing my friend. You are, I believe in safe hands, but if at any time you find yourself in need of a friend, I would be honoured if you would consider me at your service,” he said seriously, bowing, before seating himself comfortably opposite her.

  Determined to deflect attention from herself, she gave Sir Philip one of her direct looks. “You think, perhaps we may still be in danger? You know who was behind it, don’t you?”

  It was more statement than question. Sir Philip looked across at the intriguing young lady, a look of mild surprise and indecision in his gaze. One moment she was an unsure child, without the usual flow of meaningless chit-chat that characterised her sex. She was as George had pointed out, an innocent, and uncomfortable with any hint of flirtation yet when she found herself in a dangerous situation she reacted with a quickness of thought and decision that was as rash as it was intrepid. Yes, by God, no fainting or tiresome fit of the vapours for her, and when she fixed those intense golden eyes on you, it was difficult to consider denying her anything.

  “Although I have no wish to pry into Lord Atherton’s affairs, you do not perhaps consider that as I have been so closely concerned in them I might merit some sort of explanation?” she pressed quietly.

  Although well aware it was not really his tale to tell, he nonetheless found himself filling her in on Lord Atherton’s dealings with Lord Rutley. A large part of his success as a leader of soldiers had been dependent on reading the mood of his men and so although she remained silent throughout he noted the flash of disgust that crossed her face at the mention of gambling, interestingly followed by one of guilt and chagrin when he mentioned the loss of the Rutley emeralds and the possibility that he had hoped to partially restore his failing fortunes by the acquisition of Lady Atherton’s jewels.

  Rosalind was relieved that the arrival of Mrs Simmons to show her to her room put an end to any more confidences. This neat, efficient lady showed her an alarming amount of deference, informing her that Lady Atherton would see her in her private sitting room when she had had time to dress for dinner.

  She had very little opportunity to reflect on Sir Philip’s revelations as Lucy was waiting for her and in a very short time had her attired in a simple round gown of olive green, tied with a bronze ribbon under the square-cut bosom. She took extra care with Lady Rosalind’s hair, piling it artfully on top of her head in a riot of curls, allowing a few to frame her face. She completed it by weaving some gold and green flowers into the arrangement and then stood back to view her handiwork.

  Her eyes brightened with something suspiciously like tears. “Behold, thou are fair, my love,” she sighed. “It makes my old heart glad to see you here in this setting, looking every inch the lady that you are.”

  Rosalind stared at the vision before her as if at a stranger; she had not had much occasion to wear any of the gowns they had altered and although she felt she looked well, she felt strange and unlike herself. Although she knew herself to be a lady, somehow she felt more like an imposter than ever. It was with some trepidation that she followed Lady Atherton’s abigail to her private sitting room. She stood uncertainly on the threshold of the cosy and surprisingly, slightly shabby-looking room as she was announced.

  Lady Atherton took in at a glance the coltish awkwardness of the very young lady before her and one look at the wide, anxious, liquid gold eyes melted any reserve she might have felt. Quickly, she came forward both hands outstretched. “Welcome to Atherton my dear child,” she smiled. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance and have to thank you for rescuing my poor boy from his latest scrape.”

  Rosalind, looking into those kind, smiling eyes felt more of a fraud than ever. “Oh no, please don’t thank me,” she begged, “I fear I am partly to blame, I-I don’t deserve that you should welcome me so, when you know the circumstance of my meeting Lord Atherton...” Her voice wobbled as she faltered.

  To her surprise, Lady Atherton put her arms around her and led her to a comfortable-looking sofa, drawing her down beside her. “You absurd child, you have been having a horrible time of it, I know all about it, but you will go on very much better now you are here and how delightful it will be for me to have someone so charming to bear me company.”

  Rosalind returned the clasp of her hands but incurably honest, was determined to make a clean breast of everything. “But you cannot have understood, Lady Atherton, I broke into your house, would have stolen from you. I don’t deserve...”

  “Hush,” Lady Atherton interrupted. “You don’t deserve all the horrid things that have happened to you. Poor old Barney was always a sad case before he met your mother you know.”

  Rosalind’s eyes widened in amazement. “You knew my mother?”

  “Not well,” Lady Atherton smiled, patting her hand. “But my husband and your father were bosom bows in their youth, you know, and we were present at their wedding. She seemed such a gentle, sweet creature and Barney settled down to a quiet life afterwards didn’t he?”

  Rosalind nodded, tears misting her eyes. “She was a good, kind, creature and they were both very happy, we were all very happy. But Papa was never the same after, after she died.”

  Those silver eyes so like her son’s darkened seriously. “No, no but we mustn’t judge too harshly, my dear. Men will often bury themselves in ridiculous distractions rather than face feelings they don’t know what to do with.” She looked into the troubled face before her and added, “I’m sure he loved you very much, and that in his mind he was trying to restore his fortunes so he could look after you.”

  Rosalind nodded, feeling the hard knot of tension that had held a stranglehold around her heart for so long loosen. Just to have someone know her story and not judge too harshly brought tears to her eyes. Blinking them away, she straightened her shoulders, steeling herself to say, “You are very kind, ma’am, but I know you did not wish for a companion and I will understand if you would prefer I seek another situation.”

  “My dear child, do I seem such a dragon that you want to run away already?” Lady Atherton laughed.

  “No, no,” Rosalind stammered, flushing as she remembered she had made just such a supposition to Lord Atherton. She had certainly not expected an elegant, beautiful lady with a quick understanding and a ready sympathy. />
  Lady Atherton got to her feet. “I am only teasing you, ridiculous child, come or we shall be late for dinner. For now, you are a guest in my house and when we have had time to get better acquainted we will talk of the future.”

  It soon became clear that Sir Philip was a frequent guest and firm favourite with Lady Atherton and that she took no small delight in teasing him.

  “Although it is always a pleasure to see you, Philip,” she smiled warmly at him, “I am surprised you can spare the time away from town. There is not much more of the season left after all and I had quite thought you would have made your choice by now.”

  “Mother!” protested Lord Atherton. “I will not have Philip harassed over this matter, the more pressure that is brought to bear on a man to get leg- shackled the more he is likely to make a run for it!”

  “Oh, is that what you are doing, Philip? Running? Who is the unfortunate young lady you are running from?” she asked mischievously.

  “You could pick any one of a dozen!” her son said drily.

  “Really?” she said, interested. “And has not one of these fair maidens captured your heart, Philip?”

  Rosalind sneaked a peek at him, half expecting him to be frowning but he was his usual urbane self, and his eyes reflected the imp of mischief dancing in Lady Atherton’s.

  “Not a one, ma’am, although a couple are indeed beautiful I might as well address myself to the roses they like to be compared to.”

  “Indeed!” replied Lady Atherton, laughing. “And do you often find yourself addressing flowers, Philip?”

  He grinned. “No ma’am, but I might as well for all the sense I can get out of any of the debutantes. I have only to say the sky is green and they hastily agree with me and then if I change my mind and decide it is purple, they would agree with that too!”

  Lord Atherton gave a bark of laughter. “He speaks the truth, Mother, it is a truly insipid bunch this season.”

  Rosalind had said very little up to now but suddenly felt the need to speak up for her sex.

  “I wonder what they truly think of you both?” she mused.

  “They don’t think, that is the point,” said Lord Atherton. “They are only interested in how soon they can rob us of our freedom and how comfortable we can make them for the rest of their lives.”

  Rosalind tilted her head to one side and let her considering gaze roam unhurriedly from one gentleman to the other before voicing her thoughts. “You speak of them as commodities in a shop that you have the luxury of picking or not. As usual, the choice is yours. How much choice do they have? What other choice do they have? They must marry or live a life of dependency on their family, which in the end would be no life. They would dwindle into old maids and end up being little better than servants. You speak of them agreeing with everything you say, my experience is admittedly limited but I had not noticed that gentlemen generally like being argued with. You speak of losing your freedom, I suppose you mean the freedom to come and go as you please, to indulge in whatever excesses you please, the freedom to shirk burdensome responsibilities. They have never known such freedom and whatever little freedoms society will allow them, can only be gained through marriage unless they are fortunate enough to have a considerable independence of their own. You speak of the pressure being brought to bear on you, what about the pressure each and every one of them is under? From their mothers who have filled their head so full of what to do and what not to do that they hardly know which way is up, from their peers who are naturally in competition with them and from a society that is looking on, ready to see if they will sink or swim. You talk of them having nothing to say, how much would you have to say if you had such a limited experience of the world? But you do have such experience and as I can hardly believe that either of you have so little address that you could not draw them out and find a character beneath their society manners if you chose to, I must assume that you have chosen not to do so. That is again your choice, it seems you think you can choose who and when, they have no such certainty and so can hardly be blamed for using what little stratagems they can to try and attract you and ensure their future security.”

  A stunned silence greeted this soliloquy, and then Lady Atherton smiled in genuine amusement. “You are very right, Lady Rosalind.”

  Lord Atherton had a small frown between his brows but Sir Philip grinned ruefully at her. “Indeed you are and you have shown us up for being the arrogant, selfish creatures we undoubtedly are!”

  Finally, even Lord Atherton’s lips twitched. He turned to his mother. “How is it all these limitations that hedge young ladies about never seem to apply to Belle? I am pretty sure she chose Hayward, not the other way around, and she has always seemed to feel free to live life exactly how she chooses.”

  His mother’s lips stretched into a fond smile as she thought of her youngest daughter. “Ah, but there are always exceptions to every rule, George, and Belle has always been a one off!”

  “Indeed she has,” said Sir Philip fondly. “If only she hadn’t decided to marry when I was out of the country, who knows, maybe I might have been tempted!”

  Lord Atherton laughed. “Ah, it’s safe to say that now isn’t it? At the risk of denting that arrogance further, my dear fellow, I must add that I fear you would never have been in the running. You would have been up to every move on the board and cut her off at every pass, something she is well aware of. Fond as she is of you, she has not forgotten the time you put her over your knee and gave her a good spanking!”

  Rosalind’s eyebrows shot up and her fork paused on its way from the plate to her mouth.

  Sir Philip gave her a wry smile. “You can now add brutality to all my other faults, ma’am!”

  “No she can’t,” said his friend. “She had deserved every single smack.”

  Rosalind turned her gaze towards Lady Atherton who might have been expected to look shocked but was quietly laughing. “It is quite true, my dear,” she agreed. “She must have been about ten at the time and she decided to take Philip’s horse for a ride. It was a very resty stallion and his pride and joy. She was lucky not to either break her neck or its legs. Our hearts were in our mouths when it returned without her but thankfully she had suffered nothing more than a tumble and bruised pride.”

  “Followed swiftly by a bruised bottom,” Lady Rosalind smiled, getting into the spirit.

  The rest of the meal passed without contention as many more examples of Belle’s mad escapades were dragged up with a great deal of fondness and it had to be said, a certain amount of pride.

  Chapter 6

  Within a very few days, Rosalind had begun to blossom under the kind attentions of her hostess. Sir Philip and Lord Atherton amused themselves with gentlemanly pursuits during the day, fishing, shooting or riding about the estates and Lady Atherton found a keen pupil in Rosalind, who enjoyed herself hugely rummaging about in the kitchen garden and exploring the park. Satisfied that her charge was safely and happily ensconced, Lucy departed Atherton, not trusting Ned’s sister to look after things any longer than need be. Mary, one of the housemaids found herself promoted to wait on Lady Rosalind which she did with eagerness and devotion. Rosalind awoke one morning to find a package waiting for her; a set of paints, paper and pencils were inside. Delighted, she didn’t wait for her adoring attendant but hurried to get dressed so she could thank her kind benefactress.

  When she entered the sunny breakfast parlour only Lord Atherton was present. He looked up from his paper as she entered and got politely to his feet.

  “You look happy about something this morning,” he commented, pulling out a chair for her.

  Rosalind returned his smile and told him of her find.

  He bowed again and his smile widened. “I thought it might keep you out of mischief,” he murmured.

  Her brows shot up in surprise and she looked adorably confused. “I have no intention of getting into mischief,” she protested. “I thought they were from your mother.”

  “I h
ope the small gift is no less welcome for having come from me,” he queried, with awful politeness.

  She was still blushing furiously at her rudeness and thanking him as Lady Atherton entered the room, laughing up at something Sir Philip was saying to her.

  “Now what have you done to put Lady Rosalind to the blush?” she asked perceptively. “I hope you have been behaving yourself, George?”

  When she learned about the gift she was delighted. “It is the very thing,” she said approvingly. “If I had known you enjoyed painting I would have seen to it myself. We are leading such quiet lives at present you will be glad of the diversion.”

  Whilst she hastily denied any need of diversion, Rosalind admitted that when her services were not required, there were many beautiful vistas at Atherton that she would like to sketch or paint.

  Lady Atherton tutted as she seated herself at the table. “How many times must I tell you, my dear, that you are at present a guest and not here to wait on me! I have taken great delight in your company.” She had broken the seal on a letter as she spoke and became absorbed in its contents. As she read a low chuckle escaped her. “Our quiet is about to be broken,” she announced, glancing up at her son. “It seems your sister has got wind of at least some part of your adventures and is about to descend upon us with Hayward in tow.” She raised an eyebrow at his low groan and continued, “Not only that but it seems your other sister, Harriet, has been paying her a brief visit and is also going to honour us with her presence, along with Sir Thomas and the two children!”

  She had barely finished relating this startling information when Sedgewick entered the parlour and announced Lord Preeve. He entered the room, immaculately turned out as usual but somewhat ruined the effect by his sheepish manner. He offered a formal bow in the general direction of everyone before turning a half apologetic, half harassed gaze upon Lady Atherton.

  “Good morning, John,” she murmured, “what an unexpected surprise!”